


Decisions

by nsowlwrites97



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Drama, Friendship, Gen, Magic Revealed, Reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 14:27:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7805335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nsowlwrites97/pseuds/nsowlwrites97
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started with a secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decisions

**Author's Note:**

> It started with... a story! I hope you enjoy!

It started with a thunderstorm.

Merlin’s steps were quiet against the downpour outside. He clutched his thin jacket around himself as he walked, hardly watching where he was going. There was something he had to do. He just hoped the storm wasn’t a reflection of how it would go, because it was definitely a reflection of what he was feeling at the moment.

“Hey, Merlin!” Gwaine. He had bumped into Gwaine. The knight gripped his shoulders, and Merlin gave him a forced smile. “Lucky we’re not on patrol in this weather, eh?” Merlin grunted in reply. “Hey, want to go down to the tavern with me? May have to brave a bit of rain, though.”

“I’m busy.” Merlin pushed past Gwaine, trying to stay focused.

“Aw, Merlin, come on, don’t leave a man to drink by himself!” Gwaine called at him.

"Take Percival!” Merlin shouted back, without turning around. Gwaine didn’t follow him. Merlin kept walking.

For the hundredth time in twelve hours, Merlin wondered if he was doing the right thing. If he was making the right choice, if he had judged the current situation correctly. If it was the right time.

Gaius seemed to think so.

Merlin kept walking, purposely avoiding his destination to give himself an extra minute to consider. He knew he should just do it, just walk in and say it, but every bone in his body screamed against doing so. _It’ll go horribly wrong. He’ll hate you. He’ll kill you._ Merlin pushed those thoughts away and continued through the castle. He knew exactly what he was going to say, and how to say it. He had his defenses ready, but really, it would come down to Arthur and Arthur alone.

Finally Merlin could find no reason to delay any longer. He found himself in front of the king’s chambers, the closed doors the last barrier between now and whatever was going to happen on the other side. Nightmares and hopes about this moment swirled around in Merlin’s head, blending together and threatening to send him running back to his room. But he pushed them all away. Set a blank slate in his mind. He had made his decision.

A deep breath. A gathering of courage. A knock on a door. 

* * *

 It started with a knock.

Arthur was sitting at his desk, struggling to keep his eyes open. The pounding rain outside had lulled him into a doze. He was fairly certain that he had read the same sentence several times over, but still had no idea what it said. He wasn’t usually this slow at going through official papers, though they never failed to be the most boring things he had ever read. Besides, the kingdom was doing well. People were happy. No harm would come from skipping a couple reports, would it? Arthur rubbed his eyes and tried to shake himself awake, but it was no use. It was pointless to waste any more time on this tonight. Perhaps he should just wake up early tomorrow before the council meeting and finish then. Assuming, of course, that Merlin could be trusted to wake him up on time. Which he most certainly couldn’t be. Arthur sighed, lamenting his poor choice in manservant.

A knock on the door shook Arthur out of reverie somewhat. “Come in,” he called.

Merlin came into the room slowly, not looking at Arthur, and shut the door behind him. Then he put his hands behind his back and looked solemnly at the floor. Something was wrong. Arthur was awake instantly.

It didn’t mean he had to let his worry show, however. “What is it Merlin? I have important royal business to attend to, you know, I can’t have idiots like you interrupting me-”

“Arthur,” Merlin said thickly, still not looking at the king, “there’s something I have to tell you.”

Arthur bit his tongue, thinking about the irony of when exactly Merlin had chosen to interrupt him. But there was something off about his manservant. He wasn’t meeting Arthur’s eyes, and he almost seemed to be shaking a little. Arthur stood up and walked toward him.

“Well? Spit it out.”

Merlin clenched his jaw. His eyes flitted up to meet Arthur’s before he once again became very interested in the floor. “You know what, never mind, it’s not that important-”

Arthur grabbed Merlin’s shoulder as he started to turn back to the door.

“Merlin,” he pressed, “whatever’s bothering you, out with it. I haven’t got all night.”

Merlin nodded, as if steadying himself, and finally looked up at Arthur. His expression was serious, and Arthur could see something akin to fear in his eyes. Arthur almost took a step back at that. Was Merlin – Merlin couldn’t be _scared_ of him, could he? Whatever Merlin wanted to say, clearly he didn’t think Arthur would like it.

“What I’m about to say, it’s – ah – it’s sort of a delicate matter,” Merlin began, looking somewhere past Arthur’s right shoulder, “but I think it’s important that you knew the truth. Especially now, after – well, I hope you’ll remember to see me in a positive light, is all.”

Arthur snorted. It was true; Merlin had saved his life several days ago by walking up behind Arthur’s attacker and hitting him on the head with a water pitcher. Unfortunately the man hadn’t been properly knocked out – empty water pitchers not being particularly heavy (though Arthur thought it had more to do with Merlin not being particularly strong) – and had had another go at Arthur. Merlin – very bravely, in Arthur’s eyes, though he would never admit it to anyone – had jumped between them. Before either king or manservant could do anything, however, Sir Leon had run in and stuck the attacker with his sword.

Arthur had been feeling slightly more generous toward Merlin since then, once again reminded of his friend’s never-ending bravery and loyalty. He was sure things would go back to normal soon, though.

“Go on,” Arthur prompted, when Merlin’s pause became a little too long.

“All right.” Merlin took a breath and continued. “Well, you see, that isn’t exactly the first time I’ve saved your life. You know of some others, but there are many more.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows. _This_ was what Merlin wanted to tell him?

“Are you gloating, _Mer_ lin? You know, if I wanted you to recount all the times I might’ve died I would have asked.”

“What? No!” Merlin’s eyes were huge suddenly. “No, that’s not what I meant, I just – oh, this is going all wrong.” He rubbed his hands over his face and turned away. “I’ll just – it doesn’t matter, I-”

Again he headed for the door, and again Arthur pulled him back.

“Merlin, just say what you came here to say. I don’t need all the prefacing.”

Merlin looked between Arthur and the door, considering. Arthur waited. He wanted to know what was bothering Merlin, he wanted to help him, but Merlin needed to trust him enough to let him.

“All right,” Merlin nodded to himself. “All right. I just want you to know, I am and have always been loyal to Camelot. To you. I would never do anything to harm you. Just know that, please.”

Arthur frowned. “I do know that, Merlin, what are you-”

He stopped talking when Merlin looked up, meeting his eyes for the first time. The intensity of his gaze was startling. The words that came out of Merlin’s mouth were the last words Arthur expected. “I have magic.”

Arthur stared at Merlin. Merlin stared at Arthur. The world seemed to have frozen around them. Then something clicked into place in Arthur’s mind, and he laughed.

“Magic? You? All right Merlin, that’s a good joke. What did you actually want to tell me?” Arthur couldn’t believe he had actually thought it might be true for a second. Merlin, a sorcerer? It was the most ridiculous idea Arthur had ever heard.

But Merlin wasn’t laughing. Merlin didn’t seem to find the idea as funny as Arthur did. Merlin was standing as still as a statue, staring at the ground, blinking furiously and biting his lip. Arthur’s smile faded. “Merlin-”

“It’s true,” Merlin whispered. “All my life – I could make things move with my mind before I could walk. It’s always been a part of me. I can’t change that. And when I came here – I have used magic to protect you, Arthur. Never for evil. You have to understand that. Please.”

Arthur didn’t know what to say. His thoughts were spinning at a million miles a minute, memories and emotions roaring through his mind. Fear, anger, disbelief, hurt, incredulity, betrayal, all exploding inside him to the point where he could barely take it anymore. And still Merlin stood there, looking at him earnestly, cautiously, expression scared but hopeful, hands clasped respectfully behind his back, Merlin, Merlin, Merlin. Servant. Friend. Sorcerer. Traitor.

“Get out,” Arthur seethed. Merlin’s face fell, and he opened his mouth to say something. “Get out!” Arthur pointed at the door, forcing himself to keep his feet planted, to not reach out and do something he would regret.

But Merlin didn’t know when to give up. “Are you – am I-”

“I said get out!” Arthur yelled, and Merlin turned and ran. Arthur was breathing heavily; he felt light-headed and confused, still unable to process what was happening. _Magic._ Merlin had _magic._ And he was living at the heart of Camelot. And he was Arthur’s manservant, Arthur’s – no. No, Merlin was no friend of Arthur’s. Not any longer.

Nothing made sense anymore. Arthur’s world had been suddenly and violently upended; someone had pulled out the rug from beneath his feet, and he was still falling, struggling to find something to grab on to, something that would explain what, why, how. Arthur leaned on the table, feeling that it might just be easier to collapse and deal with this in the morning. It was like the storm outside had pulled him out into it and was flinging him around, or maybe it was just inside him now, throwing everything off-kilter. Perhaps it was all just a bad dream. Perhaps he would wake up and find that Merlin was who he said he was, and that nothing had changed. He knew that was wishful thinking, though. Arthur sank into a chair and put his head in his hands. There was no way he would be able to sleep tonight.

* * *

It started with the dawn.

When Merlin had returned to Gaius’ chambers the previous night, he’d been rushing to throw some of his things in a bag and run. Gaius had managed to calm him down a little, and it was only because of him that Merlin was still in Camelot.  

After telling Gaius, through tears and stuttered words, what had happened, Merlin sat on his bed, knees curled up to his chest, staring at the wall and trying to stop the tears. He didn’t sleep, didn’t think he could even if he tried. Arthur would come after him, he was sure of it. He’d be executed before the day was over.

Merlin knew, even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself, that in the end he would never have run. If Arthur didn’t accept him anyway, what was the point? Merlin would let Arthur do what he willed with him, and could only hope that perhaps this experience would make Arthur at least consider the good side of magic.

Gaius had said he’d talk to Arthur, try and make him see sense. Merlin doubted it would work. Arthur definitely despised him now, if his reaction to Merlin’s secret was any indication. He’d been a fool. He’d thought that, perhaps, after several long months of prosperity and peace, after Arthur had tried a suspected sorceress (who, Merlin could sense, actually did have magic) and let her go free, Arthur would be more open-minded. How very wrong he’d been.

Eventually early morning light began to creep through the small window, casting the room in a golden-red glow. Merlin looked out at the light. Just last night it had been raining and storming. Apparently the weather had had a change of heart. Merlin didn’t think Arthur would be as generous.

Merlin sat there for another hour, eyes never leaving the window, mind sluggish and numb from exhaustion. The room began to get warmer, as it did every morning, and Merlin almost wanted to lie down and sleep for eternity. But the fear of what could happen to him was like an infection in the pit of his stomach, twisting and churning and painful.

Then, suddenly, the stillness snapped like a tree branch in a silent forest in the form of a knock on the door. Merlin startled. Gaius’ voice called, “Merlin?”

Merlin relaxed, but only slightly. Gaius pushed open the door, and from the look on his face, Merlin thought that Gaius had almost expected not to find him there. The physician looked visibly relieved to see that he’d been wrong.

“What am I going to do, Gaius?” Merlin asked quietly before Gaius could say anything.

Gaius sat down on the edge of Merlin’s bed. “Like I said last night, I will go talk to Arthur. I think he was just shocked by this revelation. I’m sure now that he’s had some time to think about it, he will be more open to the idea of you having magic.”

“I doubt it,” Merlin replied. “I had this whole speech planned out, and I didn’t even get to say most of it. He just sort of… exploded at me.”

“I know it’s hard, my boy, I know,” Gaius said. “Let’s just give him some time to adjust. I’m sure he has a lot to think through.”

“What, like whether or not he should burn me at the stake?” Merlin asked humorlessly.

“You will not be burnt at the stake,” Gaius said firmly. “Arthur will come around, you’ll see. Especially once I’ve had some words with him.”

Merlin nodded, feeling numb and cold inside. Maybe he could just hide up here forever. Yeah, that could work. Then he’d never have to face Arthur again.

“In the meantime, please eat something,” Gaius added. Merlin nodded again, having no intention of following that particular piece of advice.

He dimly registered Gaius getting up and the door closing behind him. The sun was well and fully up now, and Merlin thought about how this time yesterday, he’d been leaving to go wake up the king, on time for once only because he’d been anxiously wondering what would happen once he’d told Arthur about his magic. Wondering about where he’d be a day from them. Well, he knew the answer now, and he wished more than anything to be able to go back and tell himself, “not yet.” He doubted now whether the time would ever be right.

Merlin sighed to himself. He considered getting up and doing his normal duties (all the ones that didn’t involve Arthur, anyway). Maybe pretending that everything was fine would help a bit. But if Arthur found him, if he even _saw_ him… No. Merlin didn’t want to face that again. And he was scared. Well and truly scared. He wouldn’t run, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be executed.

 _Gaius will talk to him and make him understand. It’ll be okay. He just needs some time._ Merlin wanted to believe these things to be true. He wanted to believe them so badly it hurt inside. But no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t believe that everything would turn out smoothly. Kings, he noted to himself, were not as changeable as the weather.

* * *

It started with a physician.

Arthur, like Merlin, had gotten no sleep that night. Dawn found him still sitting at the table, staring into the embers of the fire and wondering how on earth things had gone so wrong.

Merlin, a sorcerer.

Merlin, with magic.

It jut didn’t seem possible.

How the hell was it possible?

It wasn’t a joke. Merlin hadn’t been pulling his leg. Of that much Arthur was sure.

All night, Arthur had been remembering. Little things. Things that didn’t really mean much on their own, but that collectively spoke volumes. Lucky escapes. Near misses. Miraculous recoveries. All while Merlin was present. Or suspiciously absent. All ending with Merlin and his cheeky grin and strange explanations. Arthur had given up trying to get a sufficient answer out of Merlin years ago. He had been tricking them all for years. _Years._

But why would he be _helping_ Arthur? Camelot was the worst possible place for sorcerers. Why had Merlin come here?

Nothing made sense. Arthur was sure that Merlin wasn’t evil, or he’d have let Arthur die by now, but he was using magic. _Magic_ was evil. _Magic_ corrupted.

Perhaps – perhaps this was all part of some grand master plan. Perhaps Merlin wanted to earn Arthur’s trust, to worm his way into the king’s life before pulling it all down around him out of some sadistic pleasure. But Arthur knew that wasn’t true. It just wasn’t _Merlin_.

He wished Guinevere were here. She could help him make sense of this mess. Unfortunately she was in an outlying village for the week, helping them build some sort of leadership structure.

A knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts. Arthur rubbed at his eyes, which were definitely only watering because they were tired, and stood up. “Come in,” he called.

Gaius entered Arthur’s chambers, seemingly unsurprised to find Arthur up and the bed clearly not slept in. The physician took one look at Arthur and sighed. He leaned out the door and stopped a passing servant. Arthur heard something about “kitchens “ and “breakfast.” Arthur stomach recoiled at the thought of food. He was sure that if he ate anything, he’d be sick.

Gaius came back in and closed the door softly behind him. Arthur realized he knew the reason the physician was here, but he didn’t want to face it. He didn’t want to consider the fact that Gaius had _known_ about Merlin, had known and hadn’t told him.

“Arthur,” Gaius began, “there’s something you and I need to talk about.”

Arthur was shaking his head before he could stop himself. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He turned away.

“That may be so, but I think you need to,” Gaius replied sternly. Arthur sighed and turned around.

“You knew.” His tone was accusatory, but he didn’t bother trying to keep it in check. He knew it was true, as surely as – well, as surely as he had thought he’d known Merlin. “You knew, and you never told me. You trusted him over me, over my father.” His voice shook. Arthur was almost too exhausted to be angry, but it didn’t change the fact that he was. Extremely.

Gaius, on his part, had the grace to look slightly guilty. “Yes, Arthur, I knew. And I don’t regret keeping his secret. Merlin is not an evil man. Had your father known, he would’ve been long dead. All he’s ever done is protect you, Arthur. He may have a certain… _tool_ that helps him do that, but it doesn’t change the fact that the last thing he would ever do is hurt you.”

Arthur didn’t say anything for a moment. He wanted to believe Gaius, badly, but everything he’d been taught about magic since birth was tumbling through his mind. “Has he enchanted you to say that, then?”

Before Gaius could reply, there was a knock on the door. Gaius accepted the tray of fruit and cheese from the servant and set it on the table. “Eat something, Arthur. You look exhausted.”

Arthur shook his head. How could he do something as trivial as _eat_ when everything he’d thought he’d known about his best friend had been a lie? How was he supposed to do anything? He remembered dimly that he had a council meeting sometime soon, but found that he didn’t really care. They could do it without him, if need be.

Gaius looked disappointed when he didn’t move to the table, but didn’t say anything more about it. “Arthur, think about the Merlin you know. The Merlin who is your friend. He is no different now than he was before.”

“I don’t know him anymore, Gaius,” Arthur replied quietly, not meeting the physician’s eyes. “There’s this whole side of him that I didn’t know about. What else is he hiding?”

“You have to understand, sire, that Merlin made this choice to tell you about his magic because he thought it was the right time. He thought you would accept him. He doesn’t want to hide anymore. Magic on its own is not an evil thing, and he hopes you can see that. He is putting his trust in you now. You must trust him in return.” Arthur chanced a look up at the old physician, who was watching him hopefully.

“He didn’t trust me before,” was all Arthur could say. And it was true. Merlin hadn’t trusted him for a long time, until yesterday, it seemed. And Arthur had thought Merlin was his closest friend.

“I think,” Gaius said quietly, understanding dawning in his voice, “that you have to ask yourself what exactly you are upset about. Is it the magic, or is it the fact that Merlin has kept something from you for so long? That he didn’t know he could trust you?”

Arthur looked sharply up at that, because it was true, he realized. He could deal with the magic. He _had_ seen it used for good before, however rarely. It would take some adjusting, but he could see himself thinking about magic in a new light, if needed. Merlin, however… Merlin had lied to him. Merlin hadn’t trusted him. And that, no matter how much Arthur wanted to think otherwise, that was what truly hurt the most.

* * *

It started with a friend.

It must’ve been around midday, Merlin thought, when there was a knock on Gaius’ door. Then he heard it creak open, and Gwaine’s voice called out, “Merlin?”

Merlin put his head on his knees and groaned. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. What if Gwaine was there to arrest him? What if Arthur had told the entire kingdom what had happened and they were searching for him now? What if –

Merlin never got to finish that thought, because then his door slammed open, revealing a broadly smiling Gwaine. Merlin jumped at the sound, but relaxed when he saw a) Gwaine’s expression, and b) the fact that he was alone. The man was clearly not here to arrest him. Merlin didn’t know how Gwaine would react to the magic, though he suspected the knight would be friendlier about it than Arthur had been. Well, now was not the time to find out, anyway.

“Merlin!” Gwaine boomed. “Knew I’d find you here! The princess is all grumpy, so I figured you two had a little squabble, am I right?”

“Something like that,” Merlin muttered.

“Well whatever he did, we’re going to go make him apologize. I think we need to bump our good old king down a notch, what do you say?” Merlin stiffened at Gwaine’s words, but Gwaine had already reached out, tugging at Merlin’s arm to try and get him to stand.

“No, Gwaine, please, you don’t understand-”

“No worries dear Merlin, we’ll go to the tavern first, I think that’ll make this a bit easier, don’t you?”

“No Gwaine, I can’t, I’m not going anywhere – Gwaine, stop!”

Gwaine was partway down the steps from Merlin’s room into Gaius’ chambers, Merlin pushing against the doorframe to keep from being pulled along. Gwaine frowned at Merlin.

“Come on, mate, Arthur will come round. It may take him a while, but he will.”

“You don’t know that,” Merlin replied curtly. He drew his arm out of Gwaine’s grasp. “I can’t talk to Arthur right now.”

“Must’ve been quite a fight,” Gwaine commented. The humor had faded from his eyes somewhat, to be replaced by curiosity. “What did he do?”

“It’s – ah – it’s something I did, actually,” Merlin replied, not looking at Gwaine. “I misjudged something, and now…”

“Oh, he’ll get over it,” Gwaine waved away Merlin’s comment. “Come on, off to the tavern with you!”

And that was how Merlin found himself being dragged through the castle out into the courtyard, and into the town, Gwaine prattling on loudly the whole time. Merlin kept expecting to see Arthur, terrified of what would happen if he did, but there was no sign of the king. They got to the tavern relatively uneventfully.

“Gwaine,” Merlin began, as Gwaine pulled him over to the bar, “I really don’t think-”

“Drink your worries away, Merlin, works every time.” A mug of mead appeared in front of Merlin. Merlin stared at it. He rather felt that, of all the things he thought he’d be doing today, this was probably at the bottom of the list. He looked over at Gwaine, who was already drinking from his own cup.

“Does it now?” Merlin asked. “No wonder you have such a messed up view of the world.”

“No, just a better view than you!” Gwaine replied, and held up his mug. “A toast! To pratty kings overcoming their… pratiness!”

Merlin nearly smirked at that and touched his cup to Gwaine’s. He felt warmth that had nothing to do with the alcohol creep into his chest. Perhaps not all was lost. Whatever Arthur decided, he still had Gwaine, who, though his methods were unconventional, at least had some idea about how to cheer people up. So Merlin tried to take Gwaine’s advice and just relax for a moment. Whether or not it worked was up for debate, as the anxious flutter in his chest never quite left him, but he smiled and laughed with the knight. At least while he could.

* * *

It started with a choice.

Arthur was sweaty. And tired. And hot. It had been raining just yesterday! Why did the sun have to be so damn strong?

Training had been grueling, mostly because Arthur had allowed himself to get lost in it, letting his body take over as his mind drifted far away. He had pushed himself harder today than he had in a long time.

He had also had to deal with Gwaine, who wouldn’t leave him alone after figuring out (very quickly, to Arthur’s surprise) that the king had had a fight with Merlin. Where the knight had learned such incredible deductive skills Arthur had no idea, but there it was.

Arthur glanced around the training field as the knights were putting the weapons away. Gwaine was missing, and Arthur could guess where he’d gone. He doubted somehow that Merlin (if Gwaine could find him, that was, apparently he hadn’t been seen all day) would listen to Gwaine. Arthur himself was still trying to figure out exactly what to do, and he knew much more about the situation than Gwaine did.

He’d been going over Gaius’ words all through the training session. Yes, he knew, in theory, at least that magic could be used for good as well as evil. He’d even seen several examples of it. And Merlin was very clearly _not_ evil.

But no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that it was magic that was the problem, that just wasn’t it. Gaius had been right. It was the trust issue. He could understand, to an extent, anyway, why Merlin hadn’t told him earlier, especially while his father was alive. But after that? Arthur stomped angrily back up to the castle. Merlin would have had no reason not to trust him.

He knew, really, that that wasn’t quite true, considering that his father had died at the hands of magic. But he didn’t want to admit that to himself. It was easier to just keep being angry with Merlin, somehow.

Arthur got back to his chambers and slammed the door in a fury. They were depressingly empty. He had almost expected (or even hoped) Merlin to be there, to say something about he was sweaty or stinky or fat before helping him out of his armor. But the room was quiet and cold.

Arthur couldn’t do this. All the fight left him, and he sank to the floor, his back to the door, armor clanking on the way down. It hadn’t even been a day, but he was tired. So tired. He’d cycled through far too many emotions in too short a time with too little sleep and he was _exhausted._ So exhausted he thought he might just fall asleep right there on the floor…

But no. He’d decided. He wanted this over with. He wanted this business cleared up. If he didn’t do it now he feared he never would, and the last thing he wanted was for things to stay as they were now.

He had a certain warlock to go talk to.

* * *

It started with a surprise.

Merlin hadn’t drunk much at the tavern. He’d taken a few sips, let Gwaine have his fun, laughed with the knight (if those laughs were somewhat forced then the knight was probably too drunk to tell), and sat through several of Gwaine’s ridiculous stories. But eventually, he knew, it’d be time to face his fate. He wondered if Arthur was looking for him now, and what the king had in mind for when he found him.

“Thanks for this, Gwaine,” Merlin said sincerely, clapping the knight on the back. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Wait, Merlin, leaving so soon?” Gwaine looked at him with slightly glazed eyes.

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “It’s been at least two hours,” he lied. The bartender raised an eye at him. Merlin shrugged. It had actually been just a little under one hour, but Gwaine didn’t need to know that. One hour was by far long enough for Merlin, anyway. The knight was good at distracting him from his worries, but only to a point. If Merlin stayed here much longer he thought he might burst.

“All right, all right, but that’s barely enough time to start a party, in my opinion,” Gwaine answered, slurring his words a bit. Merlin had no idea how he had managed to drink so much in so little time, but that was a mystery for another day. He turned to leave.

“Merlin!” Gwaine called him back, arm motioning at him wildly.

Bemused and more than slightly irritated, Merlin turned to the knight. “What is it, Gwaine?”

“Just… don’t let princes be a prat!” With that Gwaine promptly sloshed mead down the front of his shirt and swore.

“Wise words, Gwaine. I’ll keep it in mind.” Merlin turned and left before Gwaine could call him back again.

The town outside was busy, people bustling about the market, servants carrying baskets full of various things with them. The sun shone brightly down, and people were laughing, voices carrying up and down the street. Merlin had somehow expected it to be dim and quiet outside rather than lively. The suddenness of it jolted him, and he stood there for a moment, a rock in the stream of people. He breathed in the sights, the smells. He was suddenly immensely grateful that Gwaine had dragged him to the tavern, if only to see this. He hadn’t been down to the market for a while. Perhaps he should go more often.

Then someone bumped into him. “What’re ye standing in the middle of the street for, son?” the man asked angrily.

“Sorry,” Merlin muttered. As he started to make his way back to the castle, he thought about how he might not be able to go to the market again. How there might be a lot of things he could never do again. How – no. He couldn’t think this way. Either Arthur would forgive him or he wouldn’t. What happened then could wait until after that decision. There was no point dwelling on it now.

Even so, something about market had shaken something loose in Merlin. He had a relatively good life. He lived in a good place, where the people were happy and (for the most part, anyway) free. He did not want to let it go. He did not want to leave Camelot. He did not want to die.

So he would fight for himself. He would do what he could to convince Arthur of who he really was. He would tell Arthur the whole truth, if the king was willing to listen. If Arthur still decided after that to exile him or to have him executed, then Merlin would not go against him. But he would not give up without a fight. He would not run from his destiny.

It was because he was so deep in thought by the time he got back to Gaius’ door that he was completely unprepared for what was waiting on the other side.

“Hello, Merlin,” Arthur said pleasantly. “I believe we have something we need to discuss.”

* * *

It started with the truth.

Seeing as there was no servant around, Arthur had had to take off his armor himself. It was a pain and took nearly twice as long, but he would not subject himself to walking around in it any longer than strictly necessary.

Arthur debated with himself only for a moment after that before setting off to find his wayward manservant. He sincerely hoped that Merlin had not left Camelot; that would make all this so much more difficult and drawn-out. He avoided Gaius’ chambers at first, because he didn’t want to not find Merlin and be disappointed. But it was soon clear the servant was nowhere else in the castle, and very quickly Arthur found himself in front of the physician’s door.

He paused before knocking when he realized he had no idea what he was going to say. But then again, it wasn’t really him who needed to do the talking.

Arthur knocked. And knocked again. When still no one answered, he pushed open the door. The room was empty. Gaius must’ve been out in the town, perhaps attending to some ill or another. Though somehow Arthur couldn’t see him wanting to leave Merlin alone at a time like this.

Speaking of… Arthur crossed the room and tapped lightly on Merlin’s door. Again, no answer. He pushed the door open to find the room empty.

Arthur’s heart began to sink, and he was considering the possibility that Merlin really had left, when he spotted the bag in the corner. He picked it up; it was stuffed full of clothes. So Merlin had been thinking of leaving. But the bag was here. It wasn’t with Merlin. Which could only mean that Merlin hadn’t left. Not yet, anyway.

And Arthur would not be the one to push him away any further until he’d heard the whole story. Then he’d pass judgment.

So Arthur sat and waited. Merlin had to come back eventually. Arthur knew he should be attending to his duties, or apologizing to the councilors about missing that morning’s meeting. He should not be waiting around for someone who might not even come until nightfall, but he was not going to make the same mistake twice. This time he would listen. This time he would understand.

It turned out Arthur didn’t have to wait until nightfall. Merlin came in not twenty minutes later, seemingly lost in thought. He stumbled to a stop at the sight of Arthur sitting there, eyes going wide and terrified. No, Arthur decided, there was absolutely no way his manservant was an evil sorcerer.

“Hello Merlin,” Arthur said, keeping his tone calm and conversational. He was still angry and confused and hurt, but he tried to keep a neutral face. “I believe we have something we need to discuss.”

Merlin stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded. Then, suddenly, he seemed to come to a decision. He straightened, his expression now sincere and earnest instead of scared. “We do,” he agreed.

“Merlin,” Arthur stood up and came towards him. Merlin took a deep breath as he looked steadily into Arthur’s eyes. “I’m… I’m sorry about how I acted before. I should have given you a chance to explain. I’m going to give you that chance now.”

Merlin’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, and Arthur saw a pleased expression flash across his face.

“Before you say anything though,” Arthur interrupted as Merlin opened his mouth to speak, “know that I am still very angry with you for keeping something so big from me for so long. I can understand why you did it, I think, I just…” he trailed off, looking at Merlin, who was again getting ready to speak. “Do you trust me, Merlin?”

Merlin clamped his mouth shut, looking at Arthur in confusion. “Of course,” he replied, his voice firm. “Of course I trust you.”

“Then why- ” Arthur had to keep himself from raising his voice, from letting his anger get the better of him as it had before. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Merlin’s mouth opened in a small ‘o’ of understanding. “So this is about trust? Not about the magic?”

“It’s about both,” Arthur replied, but it was only technically true. “But mostly, yes, it’s about the trust.”

Merlin blew out a breath, as if trying to release some tension from his body. “It’s not that I didn’t trust you, Arthur, I did. Maybe not in the very beginning, but I didn’t know you that well then. And even after I had known you for a while I was still scared. You have to understand, I’ve been hiding all my life. I can count on one hand the people who have known about my magic, who I’ve trusted with my magic. I wasn’t sure how you, someone who’d been raised to believe magic was evil, would react.”

“So you trusted me with everything but that,” Arthur said.

Apparently Merlin could hear the hurt in his voice, because he quickly said, “No! Well, yes, I suppose. But there was another reason.” Merlin paused, broke eye contact, and looked back again. “I didn’t want to put you in a position where you’d have to choose between me and your duty, your father.”

Arthur stared at Merlin in shock. All this time, he’d thought the main reason was Merlin’s lack of trust in him, when, really, Merlin hadn’t wanted to _inconvenience_ him. By not telling him the most dangerous secret one could have in Camelot.

“Well, what about after my father died?” Arthur countered finally, because it had been a long time since then.

Merlin looked away at that, his expression – ashamed? Guilty? “The way your father died… I didn’t think it was the right time for a while afterward. And then… like I said, I didn’t want to force you to choose between me and your duty to the kingdom.” Merlin stopped, and for a moment Arthur thought he wasn’t going to say anything else. But then he continued, “And I admit, Arthur, these last few months…. I was still scared. I’ve lived in the shadows for so long. I wanted to tell you, I did. I just didn’t know how you’d react. I hoped, that after these several months of peace, you would understand. That is why I finally came to you last night.”

And Arthur understood, finally, he understood. He couldn’t imagine having to keep something so huge a secret for his entire life. Merlin had finally, finally, decided to trust Arthur with this secret, knowing full well he might be sacrificing his life. And Arthur had shouted at him. Had gotten angry. It was Arthur who had betrayed Merlin’s trust yesterday, not the other way around.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said hoarsely. “I’m sorry about how I acted yesterday, if I had known how – how big this was for you, if I had truly understood what it meant, to tell me-”

Merlin smirked slightly, though Arthur could still see some fear in his eyes. “So you forgive me then?”

“Forgive is a strong word, Merlin,” Arthur countered automatically. He winced when Merlin’s expression became more solemn again. “I think I – I just need some time to think,” Arthur said honestly. And he did. He would. It would take a while for him to sort through everything he was feeling right now, but he’d get there.

“Of course, sire.” Merlin moved to walk past him, but for Arthur the conversation was far from over.

“Wait. You said – you said last night that you’d saved my life many more times than I knew. I want to know about those times, and I want to know about all the other things you’ve been using your magic for while you’ve been in Camelot.”

Merlin gave him a cautious smile. “So you want to know everything, then?”

Arthur nodded. “I want to know everything.”

Merlin gestured to the table. “I guess we’re in for another long night, then.”

Arthur scoffed. “It’s hardly past midday, Merlin.” At the look Merlin gave him, Arthur’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You have _that_ much to tell me?”

Merlin smiled. “I suppose we best get started.”

And start they did. Arthur learned about the hidden side to events he hadn’t even dreamed had another side. He learned about dragons and sorcerers and druids and prophecies. He learned about betrayals and heartbreak and loss and pain. He learned about Freya, Balinor, Morgana, Uther, Agravaine. He learned about Dragoon and Emrys. He learned about lives saved and lives lost, about plans foiled and plans created. A particularly astonishing revelation from all this, however, was the fact that he, Arthur, was as much of a complete and total clotpole as Merlin taunted him to be, because he had been previously completely unaware of this incredible and dangerous second life his manservant lead. Gaius came in eventually, surprised to find the two of them sitting across the table from each other, Merlin regaling the king with tales of his magical adventures while Arthur did his best not to gape in awe. The physician had smiled lightly to himself and left them to it; he had some things to attend to in the town. Arthur would be fairly certain afterwards that he had only noticed Gaius enter because Merlin had stopped talking for a moment. And then, finally, in the early hours of the morning, as promised, Merlin sat back, his story finished.

Arthur was completely and utterly dumbfounded. This was so much more than he could have possibly imagined. What Merlin had told him – it wasn’t the Merlin he knew, and yet it was entirely and completely the Merlin he knew. He felt as if he’d been dropped into entirely new territory and told to make sense of it, except that the area was somehow familiar and he found he knew exactly what was where. It made sense. It made perfect sense, and yet Arthur could hardly believe it.

“Merlin,” he finally managed, “thank you.” Merlin looked surprised, but slightly pleased nonetheless.

“You’re my friend, Arthur. I’d do it all over again if I had to.”

Arthur shook his head in wonder. He’d known Merlin to be brave and loyal, but what he’d learned today had taken it to a whole other level. “What did I do?” Arthur asked. When Merlin looked confused, Arthur clarified. “What did I do to earn such loyalty from you?”

Merlin shrugged. “At first it was destiny. Now, like I said, you’re my friend. And you’re a great king, Arthur. And you will keep getting better.”

Arthur was humbled by those words, because he still couldn’t believe that he was worthy of such devotion from anyone, much less someone who was not a knight.

“Merlin…” Arthur started again, but he didn’t continue. He couldn’t continue. There were no words to describe what he wanted to say, what he so desperately _needed_ Merlin to know. How could words capture the scope of his gratitude, his appreciation? But Merlin nodded in understanding, looking more purely _happy_ than Arthur had seen him in a long time. Arthur was pretty sure it was because he was finally being appreciated, finally being accepted.

Arthur stood up, exhaustion sweeping in suddenly. He wanted nothing more than to collapse onto his bed and sleep for a week. Merlin, who had stood as well, seemed to be going through a similar thought process. After all, neither of them had slept for nearly two days by that point.

“Get some sleep, Merlin,” Arthur said, clapping Merlin on the shoulder. “I’m planning a busy day tomorrow. I think there are certain laws that need changing.”

Merlin grinned even wider at that, if that were possible. “Thank you, Arthur. You have no idea how much this means to me. I – thank you.”

“Well, I think it’s the least I can do. After all, we can’t have you getting punished every time you save the kingdom now, can we?”

Merlin smiled. “Goodnight, Arthur.”

“Goodnight, Merlin,” Arthur replied. He tightened his hold on his friend’s shoulder for a moment, before he let go and left. If there was a slightly un-kingly spring in his step, well, no one was awake to see it. Arthur found he wouldn’t have cared even if there were.

It had started with trust, Arthur realized as he walked through the sleeping castle. It had started with Merlin coming to him, laying himself bare for Arthur to make or break that trust. It hadn’t even been a decision, in the end. There had only ever been one choice to make.

It ended with friendship, with loyalty, with honesty.

It ended, as it had started, with trust.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that’s it! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! Please review!


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